


a final plea

by 01156



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, EMOSHUNS, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Roegadyn (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/01156/pseuds/01156
Summary: The axe is aloft, and a bond to span eternity with it.[ shadowbringers' final encounter according to my wol's canon ]
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	a final plea

The end comes with a burst of light.

Abarbluom knows not if the aether which extended from his body was his own, or another creature’s entirely, locked away deep inside the recesses of his soul. A Lightwarden? A Voidsent? An _Ascian_? He feels it surge forward and upward as he hurls Ardbert’s gift with all his might, the sensation rushing from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his fingers.

And yet, there’s a hesitation. A flinching moment of second-thought.

The axe leaves his grasp. A momentary lapse. A flash –

turning to meet golden eyes beneath the harsh light of Kholusian skies before they are swiftly averted –   
the endless wood of Yx’Maja and her azure path of petals playfully kicked up with Garlean boots, an upturned smile viewed from afar –  
a slender, aged wrist pinned by a large hand with a certain delicacy, black and gold sleeve contrasted against the white bark of the Lakeland foliage –  
gloves and coat removed and draped over a chair within the Pendants of the Crystarium, so secret hands may roam freely –

The axe is aloft, and a bond to span eternity with it.

And Hades is tumbling, turning; his faceless form unreadable, unfathomable; his roars seemingly silent, paused. The light pouring from the wound gouged into the creature’s shape, leaving a trail as he plummets, down, down. Claws grasping, reaching.

For Abarbluom. For love.

Day breaks on the broken phantom of Amaurot, its violet steps twinkling in the dawn. The sunlight heralding our heroes, bathing them in light. Abarbluom squints against it, raising the same hand which ended this tale in resistance, shielding himself. He realises himself with a start, forcing his arm back to his side, eyes now wide and desperately searching.

But there is no need. Emet-Selch waits.

He is fractured like glass, a veritable void cleft through his very torso, so vast one can see the broken skyline through it. Raising a trembling hand to the gash and dipping his head, Emet-Selch moves to remove his hood, posture straightened for the first time in what seems like a century. He bravely meets Abarbluom’s eyes, wide in silent shock, and moves to speak.

“Remember...” Emet-Selch begins, fighting the waver in his voice.

But on the contrary, Abarbluom is out of control; clamouring, tripping, falling. His spectacles clatter to the ground, cracking instantly and becoming useless, rendering him almost blind. He’s babbling, fumbling for what remains of the shards, desperately trying to make out Emet-Selch’s form with his limited, blurred vision. _Just one last time, one more time, please, I beg you –_

Emet-Selch musters the strength to clench a fist.

“ _Remember_ ,” he forces out, asking to be known. “Remember us.”

Abarbluom is wailing now, pleading. Full of despair, drowning in it. Slamming fists onto the ground. The inevitability of it all, so little power over his destiny, their destiny.

Emet-Selch manages a step forward, and another. Abarbluom can make out his approach just barely, his hoarse voice quieting, reduced to stuttering sobs. He doubles over and Abarbluom moves to catch him as Emet-Selch is draped over his large frame, his wound exploding in sparkling aether from the impact.

Despite it all, a smile tugs at his lips.

“Remember, that we once lived...”

A clawed hand moves to firmly clasp over Abarbluom’s lips, intentionally rendering him speechless. No more words, no complaints, no rejections. And it’s selfish, it’s so _selfish_ , to demand something this grand, this unknowable of him. As Emet-Selch begins to dissipate, his aether spent, breaking and fading, he finds his other hand holding on, unrelenting and unwilling to obey. The ancient sheds a final tear.

Abarbluom nods, a single solemn gesture in reply –

And it’s all Emet-Selch – _Hades_ – can ask of his sundered lover, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> its MY canon divergent drabble and I get to make emet-selch cry  
> i really just needed to get rid of some Feelings i had and drafted this at 1am so its far from perfect but its something!
> 
> ask me about my wol headcanons or dm me pictures of emet ojii on twitter @kiIlthepast


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